Grenades Are For Throwing. Not Eating-Part 1
by the Mooman
Summary: This is insane. Do not read if you're offended by silliness or British humour....


Disclaimer: Pokémon is the trademark of Nintendo and Gamefreak, however the story, including and not limited to the original characters and plot are the collective property of Darth David and the entity known as the Mooman. Don't sue us. Please.

GRENADES SHOULD BE THROWN. NOT EATEN. Part 1: The Danger Of Free (Unmonitored) English Periods

"A one"

Giovanni was less than entertained.

"A two"

Dinner was practically wetting himself, hoping Skominic didn't botch up the intro.

"A one, a two, a one two three four"

An old man half walked, half stumbled into the room with a collection of Tupperware and a spoon, which he proceeded to bang mercilessly against the various aforementioned items of Tupperware creating a funky 'beat' for the Rocket duo's ditty, for which Dinner and Skominic made up a haphazard dance routine on the spot.

"Prepare for grenade eating prevention"

"And make it..........yeah!"

Giovanni raised an eyebrow.

"To protect the world from eating grenades"

"To uh...drink lemonade. A lot"

"To denounce the evils of grenades being digested"

"To...uh...eat digestives!"

"Dinner!"

"Uh...oh...its me now...Skominic!"

"Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light!"

"Bikes at Halfords are now half price!"

Skominic took a triumphant breath, while Dinner proceeded to thump the old man with the Tupperware because he didn't stop when they did. Giovanni just stared. Time passed by, seconds into minutes, minutes into hours. Dinner thought he noticed a tumbleweed roll across the floor. They held Giovanni's stare, not daring to blink, not daring to ask could they be excused to heed natures call. Eventually (and I do mean eventually) Giovanni slammed his hands down on the desk loud enough to garner a scream from his two subordinates.

"Two years research and development, free use of McNeil and Forrest Sound studios and, this is the clincher, 3000 Poké-credits - for this!"

Skominic bit his lower lip and twisted his foot on the ground nervously.

"Well, Ah, we had to market the idea to Halfords so they'd sponsor us"

"OUT! YOU'RE OFFICIALLY EXPELLED FROM TEAM ROCKET! PLEASE IMPALE YOURSELF ON A LARGE STICK ON YOUR WAY OUT!"

Dinner and Skominic hurriedly pushed past the old man, Dinner grabbing the lyrics to his song on the way out, and ran for dear life. 

****

ONE HASTY ESCAPE LATER, ON THE DOORSTEP OF TEAM ROCKET HQ. THE PAIR ARE ADDRESSING THEIR PREDICAMENT IN A MATURE SYNARGISTIC FASHION

"This is all your fault you know"

Skominic reeled back in surprise, letting forth a girlie squeak of...surprise.

"What? Why?"

Dinner seized the opportunity to begin his carefully prepared lecture.

"You suggested that we start up the campaign in the first place"

Skominic retained his innocent expression and produced his most witty reply.

"So?"

He grinned with pride as he'd been perfecting that for almost a month now. 

Dinner countered with an equally witty and shamelessly unoriginal reply.

"So.................."

Time passed as before, the wind howled and the familiar shape of their only friend the tumbleweed passed by. Without possessing the necessary grey matter to form a response, Dinner simply stuck his tongue out at Skominic. 

"What campaign?" asked an unexpected voice

"AAAGGGHHHHHHHHH!!! THE OLD MAN!!! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HERE?"

The man just hung his head pathetically

"I can't remember"

A small 'tiddy boom' emanated from a drum kit that had been sitting nearby for the purpose of this story.

"The campaign, for those totally ignorant of our strange doings, my friend is the following:"

A musical orchestra struck up an intro.

"I don't want a song" said the old man

"Fine then, the campaign is simply this: many a year ago Skominic and I were simply living out our lives, in a way any other sophisticated, intellectual person would"

Skominic butted in.

"We were watching Telly."

Dinner glared at Skominic.

"Yes. We were watching Telly. It was then we..."

Skominic interrupted again.

"We saw this program, where there was this cat, and this mouse, and the cat chased the mouse..."

A swift blow to Skominic's stomach saw he didn't interrupt again.

"And during this particular episode, the cat was eating apples. But the mouse, being a clever little rodent, painted a grenade to look like an apple. Of course the cat didn't notice it as he was reading a book (This is the key to the joke.) and so swallowed the grenade whole."

The old man didn't look impressed.

"Of course it doesn't take a genius to work out what happened next, but we did have to call our friend Bob, who's got an A level in woodwork, as our Telly broke."

Skominic lifted his head.

"At that point we decided to take action! We strode gregariously up to our boss and majestically persuaded him to fund our campaign."

"Really?" The old man perked up a bit.

"No. We told him we needed money to buy him a present."

"He wasn't pleased when he found a £5 book voucher in gift wrapping after we had borrowed 2000 Poké-credits." Dinner added. "But not to worry! When he questioned us about what the money was really for I managed to get the better of him."

"How?" The old man said, although he knew another stupid answer was in the pipeline.

"I told him it was for...Project X!"

"Wow! That sounds exciting!" The old man said, now fixated with awe. (Author's note-Anything titled 'Project X', 'The X campaign' or stored in a filing cabinet marked 'X', is sure to get the go ahead. Try it and see!)

"Exactly!" Dinner continued, ignoring the strange voice that had babbled something about 'X', "That's what he thought! And so we were given a further 1000 Poké-credits and a whole lot of other stuff."

"OK. But what did it do?" The old man said, now getting impatient.

Dinner and Skominic proudly announced in unison:

"Our motto: Grenades are for throwing! Not eating!"

A very long time passed along with several tumbleweeds. The old man raised his hand, inhaled, was about to speak, then decided against it and walked away without a word.

****

END OF PART 1. 

What will happen next? Will Dinner and Skominic ever carry out their campaign? Will Giovanni be able to fork out for the psychiatric help required after the duo's motto? Will the old man recover his memory? Will Bianca recover from her operation? Will you care? Find out all the answers to these, except the last one which is no, in part 2. And mail us with feedback! Or............(tumbleweed)................not. 

[Click here][1] to send feedback

   [1]: mailto:themanwiththemasterplan_99@yahoo.com



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